


Buffet

by yeaka



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, M/M, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-16
Updated: 2019-10-16
Packaged: 2020-12-17 09:03:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21051797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Thranduil chooses his drink.





	Buffet

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own The Hobbit or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

The minstrels are particularly good tonight, and Meludir enjoys listening to their melancholy tune. Lying on his stomach in a plethora of pillows, he’s chosen a place along the wall, nestled up between two towering columns. Several of the sconces are lit, but not quite all of them, and the stars are out beyond the balcony, only letting in a little bit of light. It puts him in a warm, heady mood. He rests his chin on his arm and closes his eyes, letting himself be whisked away in the wistful song.

The music crescendos, than hitches for a split second, just enough to be noticeable. Meludir’s eyes open again. He can guess why the minstrels hesitated. He lifts up on his arms and glances back towards the entrance to the hall, where their handsome king has come down to bless them. 

Meludir’s breath catches, just like every other elf around him. He can feel their collective awe and their pulsing hope. No one moves far—they don’t dare get up and go to him, for it isn’t their place to choose. Thranduil will pick the one that he wants. Meludir desperately wants it to be _him_.

Thranduil strolls closer. His robes whisper along the painted tile, his golden hair stirring with each measured step. His autumn crown glimmers in the candlelight, only adding to his gorgeousness. His gaze sweeps along the subjects that he passes, irises red around the edges, letting everyone know that it’s _feeding_ time. A shiver runs through Meludir’s naked body. He wants to please his lord so badly. 

Thranduil stops beside Meludir’s little nest. Meludir rises up onto his knees, then bows right to the floor, his hair pooling down around him. He’s tempted to kiss his king’s toes. Instead, he rises back, sitting on his haunches and staring up, waiting and ready. His trim figure trembles with anticipation. He hopes his body still pleases his lord. 

Thranduil’s eyes trail idly down him. Thranduil’s taken him a hundred times, like all those in this room, for their king needs feeding often, but it wouldn’t matter if it had been a thousand times, a million, or more—Meludir will _always_ want to be the one. He’d wait by his king’s bed if he were bidden, happily offering his wrist or throat or whatever else his king might desire. 

A thin smile spreads across Thranduil’s lips, and when it opens, Meludir sees his sharp fangs. Meludir flushes deeper, fully aroused. He knows his king can see it. 

Thranduil reaches out one pale hand. Giddy but struggling to appear proper, Meludir rises and takes it. He bows his head in thanks. 

He’s gently tugged towards the bedroom in the back, where his darkest dreams come true.


End file.
